


Freelance Stories

by mediocrenova



Category: Sam & Max
Genre: (because c'mon how could you choose?), Babysitting, Dialogue-Only, Gen, Halloween Time Baby!!!, Mutual Pining, Road Trips, Soft Marketable Baby Versions, Spy Shenanigans, hey watch me add one tag and the gays go crazy (im gays), i do not "ship" i just see the evidence before me and write the truth, i try to only tag characters when they have significant roles but so far half the cast has showed, just for a chapter, kinda a mention or two of poker night, takes place in a mix of the games/cartoon universes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2020-10-28 13:04:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20779049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mediocrenova/pseuds/mediocrenova
Summary: A (hopefully, we'll see if that lasts) short compilation of stories about everybody's favorite concerningly volatile "police" friends!





	1. Obligatory Angst Chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you know its coming so let's just rip the bandage off quickly and then get into the happy stuff

“What was he-- me, like?”

“That’s not a real sentence.”

“You get the point! Lay it on me, sister.”

“I’d rather not. Besides, since when did it matter to you?”

“...”

“Don’t pout!”

“Don’t withhold good stories from me!”

“Fine, just one.”

“...”

“...”

“Are--”

“I’m thinking.”

“Oh God, someone call animal control.”

“Very funny, Groucho. When’s your next stand-up routine?”

“C’mon, quit stalling!”

“Okay, okay. Do you want to hear about… you getting elected into office?”

“Me?!”

“Don’t sound so excited! Yes, you.”

“That’s just weird!”

“Isn’t everything we go through? Er… went… through, in the… past?”

“Conversation is remarkably clunky when you avoid grouping us together.”

“It’s a new scenario for me.”

“Yeah, me too.” 

“...Would you rather hear about when you were deemed high priest?”

“Excellent taste in authority!”

“Quit giggling so loud, peabrain, you’re right by my ear!”

“What else?” 

“We got stuck in a standoff with Santa Claus once. Met a giant cockroach, but he’s dead now, poor guy. We even died once--...”

“...But you made it out?”

“We got stuck in each other’s bodies on accident.”

“Ewww!”

“Yeah, that's what you said when you realized you were two feet taller.”

“It’s kind of impressive you guys only died once. We almost died every other weekend!”

“Well, I only ‘died’ once. You--”

“Don’t tell me if it’ll keep you up all night.”

“I’ll be fine. They… took…”

“Yeah?”

“They just sawed h-- your head clean open! No real rhyme or reason... well, I guess they wanted your mind or something. I admit I wasn't paying full attention.”

“How gross.”

“I kind of… heh, this probably sounds silly, but I kind of… broke?”

“Like the toy kind or the depression kind?”

“More like anger management issues. I’m not overly proud.”

“Maybe not, but I’m intrigued.”

“Well, seeing your body limp on the floor, your eyes all cold and glassy, it just snapped something in me. I didn’t know who did it, and in all honesty I can’t remember a lot of that night, but I remember that I wanted to make them pay for-- Don’t look at me like that!!”

“My hero!”

“Can it! Point is, I didn’t take it well.”

“I wouldn’t’ve either.”

“Yeah, but you’re not opposed to senseless, dramatic violence.”

“Did you engage in senseless, dramatic violence?”

“Well, I--”

“A man after my own heart!”

“It was grief!! Rage even! I would never behave like that normally, you’d think I was some kind of animal, cornering people and shouting and growling.”

“Yeah, what kind of monster does that? Y’know, in a weird way, that’s sweet of you.”

“I smacked a gorilla across the face.”

“That’s my love language, baby! Do you know if anyone snagged some pictures of you then? I’d pay good cash for ‘em.”

“You’re not taking this seriously!”

“I never do.”

“Fair counterpoint.”

“I mean I… Heheh, nevermind.”

“No, what?”

“The guys in my town kind of did something similar. I say kind of, but they DID steal his brain. Don’t make that face at me.”

“Sorry, I-- huh?”

“Y’know how your me had psychic powers? My you had powers too, remember?”

“Yeah, what was it… Magnetism?”

“Electromagnetic.”

“That’ll make or break a spelling bee. So they just… cut me open and left me there?”

“Pretty much.”

“... And?”

“The usual, big guy! I looked around the city, casually strolled in suspicious crevices and alleyways, tortured a man to death… nothing outside of our rep.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“You just told me you beat a gorilla!”

“Yeah, but I didn’t murder him. Just made it clear I was serious.”

“Yeah, I imagine it's pretty hard to scare people into submission when you’re 6 feet tall, the width of a door and have bluntly sharp teeth.”

“Nice oxymoron, moron. I can’t believe you murdered someone for his sake!”

“Wouldn't you have? For your’s?”

“...”

“Uh huh. Hypocrite.”

“Must’ve been difficult for you to make the grizzled wardrobe change.”

“You’d be surprised! A little bit of contouring does wonders!”

“Do you think we’re lingering too long on the topic of murder?”

“Not more than usual. But let’s talk about something else anyways.”

“We could always go to sleep and continue upsetting our psyches tomorrow.”

“That’s fair. But I want to say one more thing, first.”

“Go ahead.”

“Now, don't take this sappy or anything."

"I'd rather eat a skinned rat."

"Okay. Even if you aren’t exactly the same as mine, and I’m not the same as your’s, I’m glad I found you.”

“...Arguably, I found you.”

“Keep telling yourself that. Sweet dreams, Sam.”

“Good night, Max.”


	2. Don't Trust Them With a BABY!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *genetically splices the canons together)* nice

“Keep him away from magnets, and if it starts to rain, take him back inside!”

Sam, Max, and The Geek stared at the unnerving baby in Sybil’s arms. Max twisted his mouth before saying, “Can we even hold him?”

Sybil laughed. “Why couldn’t you? You’re going to be watching him after all.”

“I think what Max means,” Sam started. “Is that um… how much does the little tike weigh?”

Her face soured, and she rolled her eyes. “He’s only 45 pounds.”

The Geek’s eyebrows shot up, and Max nearly hit the floor. “And  _ how _ old is he?” She asked.

“He’ll be 1 in a few weeks. He’s not that hard to carry, once you get used to the odd center of gravity.”

“So, like Max,” Sam offered.

“I hope not,” Sybil muttered back. “I’ll only be gone for a few hours, and he’ll probably sleep through most of it. If you have any trouble, you know where to call.”

She started to hand her son to Max, but, in a moment of realization, instead turned to hand it to Sam. She hesitated once more, slowly putting the baby in his care. Sure enough, for standard-sized baby made partially of stone and metal, his arms threatened to drop it. He tried to lift up the baby higher to gain a better hold on him, but the shifted position only made it harder to manage. 

Just when it looked like Sam was going to fall back, Max and The Geek held him up from behind. 

“Three hours, you said?” The Geek smiled unconvincingly at Sybil. “We can manage. Thank you for trusting-- coming to us.”

“If I see any dull patches on him when I get back--”

“We know, Syb, we know!” Max smiled and waved a hand at her. “Just go enjoy your afternoon, we can handle it!”

Sybil, not fully set on this idea, took a deep breath and grabbed the door handle. “Alright, just be careful.” She gave a kind smile to her baby. “I love you, I’ll be back soon.”

Without missing a beat, Sam and Max casually replied, “We love you too, see ya.”

She shook her head and shut the door.

The three stared at the door, listening to the clack of Sybil’s shoes as she walked down the stairs and out of the building. 

Now steady, Sam looked at Max. “When did you start calling her ‘Syb’?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Max watched as Sam started to put down the baby. “Whoa, whoa, whoa!! What do you think you’re doing!”

“Putting… the baby down?”

The Geek shook her head. “Everyone knows that you have to put down something for babies to sit on, they can’t just sit on the dirty floor.”

Sam, still bent over with the infant inches from the floor, blinked at them. “He’s a kid made of stone.”

“That’s no excuse,” she said, pointing a finger at him. “Do we have any blankets in here?”

“Not since Max misunderstood what a pillow fort really is.”

“Good times,” Max beamed. “Use your jacket!”

“But--”

“Unless you want to go out to buy a new blanket,” The Geek interrupted.

Sam’s ears drooped, before returning to normal as he realized something. “How can I set my jacket down if I can’t put Junior somewhere first?”

“I can hold him,” Max suggested.

“No, you can’t. Geek, can you look in the closet for me?”

She complied, swinging open the door. A mass of junk fell out quickly, but she simply ignored it, opting to use the pile of junk as a makeshift step-stool. “Are they at the top?”

“I don’t even think he knows,” Max said. He wiggled a finger in front of the baby, who, previously quiet, starting giggling to himself. “But maybe.”

“Found one.” The Geek slid down the hill of junk, landing on her feet at the end while holding a lumpy jacket out. “It’s faded, so… if he starts peeing mercury or whatever, we can throw it out.”

She laid it down, and Sam put the baby on top. “All of them are faded,” he murmured. “What’s your point?”

“Do you really think he pees mercury?”

The Geek tapped her chin. “Well, I was kind of joking, but--”

A sudden cry from the baby made the three of them jump. One by one, their faces slowly morphed into horror. None of them knew how to handle a crying baby.

Max attempted to scoop him up, but after a failed attempt, settled for sitting by him. The other two could see the gears turning in his head, and his smile quickly returned. He used one hand to rub the crying child’s back, and put the other arm in front of him, in a half-hug. “This is what Sam does when I start crying!”

“Yeah, and you bite my arm when I do it.”

“I didn’t know you had the capacity to cry.”

Max shrugged, and focused his attention on the baby. “He’s sure got some lungs for what feels like a solid jumbo kewpie doll. He’s--” Max blinked. “Oh my God. What’s his name?”

Even the baby seemed to stop crying in confusion. Sam crossed his arms. “I… I don’t know. I never asked.”

The Geek’s eyes widened. “I thought you two knew! Ugh,” she groaned. “So we just have to call it ‘The Baby,’ huh?”

“That’s what I was calling him in my head, anyways,” Sam admitted. Max nodded in agreement. The Geek glanced aside, unamused. 

“It’s not exactly emergency call material,” she thought aloud. “Just remember to ask when she gets back.”

Max groaned. “She’s really taking her time with this, huh?” He looked at the baby. “We can’t really do a lot with a rugrat around.”

“We could,” Sam countered. “But not anything that wouldn’t make him cry or make Sybil try to murder us when she got back.”

“So, it’s a no,” The Geek frowned. “There’s other things that are suitable for infants though!” She lifted the TV from the desk to the floor, switched it on and fiddled with the dial. “Besides, this kinda stuff holds your attention too, so it won’t feel like forever.”

“I halfway resent that,” Max argued.

Enough channel-flipping later, they found a kiddy-type movie, and settled back against the wall with the baby. 

About 20 minutes in, The Geek muttered, “How personally would you take it if I said I was glad you didn’t raise me from a baby stage?”

Sam grinned and shrugged. “I’ve been more hurt.”

“That’s probably not even in the top 20 things you’ve said that’ve offended me,” Max said.

As the movie went on, everybody shifted around, sometimes paying attention, sometimes not, talking, being quiet. If it weren’t for the weirdly gray baby crawling over Sam’s legs, it would have been an ordinary movie night. The movie ended, and another began, but no one seemed to care.

Sybil knocked at the door. After recieving no response, her brain immediately went to the worst, ready to break down the door if she needed to. She grabbed the handle, only to find it was unlocked. Did they even have a working lock, or was Max alone a good security system?

“Guys?” she quietly asked, peeking her head into the room.

The first thing that caught her attention was the chatter of the television sitting square in the floor, but her eyes naturally followed back to them. She tried to suppress a smile. 

All four of them had fallen asleep at some point, the other three essentially using Sam as a pillow. Part of Sybil thought it cruel to wake them up, but another part of her remembered all the trouble they’d caused for her before. She decided to take a scrap of paper and write a note instead. She gently woke up her son, who blinked at her sleepily before breaking out into a grin and reaching for her. She picked him up with comical ease compared to the others, and dropped the note in his place. 

She began to leave, only stopping for a brief moment to shut the door. As she closed it, she caught a final glimpse of the group, completely unaware the baby was gone. Oh yeah, there was no way she was leaving him alone with them again. She closed the door and exited the building.

But apparently, while unable to detect an entire baby being lifted off him, the click of the door woke Sam up instantly. He jolted awake, sitting up and causing Max and The Geek to fall to the floor, narrowingly missing hitting each others’ heads.

“The baby,” Sam muttered.

“Oh, the baby,” Max looked at The Geek and gestured vaguely towards Sam in agreement. Then, the fog of sleep cleared in his head. “THE BABY!” Max repeated.

“WE LOST A BABY?!” Sam cried.

“ _ YOU _ LOST A BABY, I HAD NO PART IN THIS,” Max shouted.

“Are you guys done?” The Geek asked, rubbing her eyes. “There’s a note over there.”

Max snatched it up before Sam could, and quickly read it over aloud. “You did better than I expected, I’m glad he’s all in one piece. If there’s a next time, put the TV farther away from your eyes. I’ll bring some toys to keep him occupied.”

“Oh, is that all,” Sam said flatly.

Max looked over the paper at Sam, then The Geek. He read the last line. “Thanks, Sybil and Maxwell.”

For a minute, no one seemed to process the name. But when it hit, it hit heavy. 

“Oh my God!”

“She named him after you, bonehead!” Sam smiled. 

“But my full name isn’t Maxwell! It’s Maximillian! Or is it the other way ar… Y’know what, forget it,” Max held his hands out in defeat. “I’m honored, but a little creeped out.”

“That’s normal,” Sam said. “But I think I’d take it as an honor.”

“I’m not you,” Max said simply.

“That’s true.”

The Geek slumped slightly. “Can we continue this movie night business in the Sub-Basement? I could use more sleep.”

Sam and Max looked at her, and each other. “I’m not opposed.”

“Me either. Can we watch The Hunchback of Notre Dame? I like all the fire.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> someone for the hundredth time: what if sybil named her baby after max lol  
me, every single time, in tears: ohhh my god what if sybil named her baby after max


	3. Max has a Pining Crisis: The Movie!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready for some walls of text, gang. He have romantic emotions to sort through. 
> 
> I've read lots of fics where Sam kind of sorts through his emotions, and they were all very good, but I wondered how it went with Max too, so that's why I wrote this. Sometimes you just have to sift through the very scary and violent brain of a little bunny thing to write, y'know?

Max stared at the ceiling of the dark room. It had been about 10 minutes since he’d called to be picked up, but his ride was nowhere in sight. Stupid lack of a valid driver’s license-- of course, it wasn’t like Sam had one either. 

He sighed. Sam. This was gonna be a problem.

Thanks to his busy life, Max wasn’t really alone for long periods of time often. Which was a good thing! Max wouldn’t exactly say he was an extrovert, but he was an extrovert. He lived for the looks on peoples faces when they heard his stories, both fake AND real, and in all honesty, he loved the attention he got simply walking into a room. Although it wasn’t a lack of these elements that made isolation so…  _ weird _ for him. It was more a recent issue, regarding to how his thoughts always drifted. 

Max didn’t feel shame, Max didn’t get embarrassed. He said what was on his mind, no matter how crass or unnecessary. Most of the time, it was in the form of him getting Sam’s attention and saying it as loudly as he pleased, issuing Sam’s usual catchphrase, which everyone who’d known them over a month was probably sick and tired of. What could Max say? He just cracked Sam up.

That was part of the equation, he thought. Max was just like that, but Sam genuinely liked him, even if he got stupid or dark. If anything, he suspected it made Sam enjoy his company more. So, point being, Max was a blunt asshole. He never feared the repercussions of what he said. But that begged the question; why had he never said anything about  _ this _ to Sam?

It was a weird feeling, making his shoulders suddenly tense and unwind, and the fur on his neck lift. He couldn’t remember when it started, as if it had always been there, just getting stronger over time. It never felt like it would go away, but it would spike at key moments. 

The easiest provocation for it to hit hard was touch. Max wouldn’t bat an eye if it was him doing it. He could hug Sam, cling to him like a parasite, even fall asleep holding him on the couch. But when Sam did it, it was another story. It was a shame, because Sam was a naturally touchy person with Max. It was a thing you just experienced when you were close enough, he supposed. Back when they were kids, they would hug everytime they had to say goodbye, hold hands whenever they were stepping over a particularly high up ledge, the works. After Sam had grown taller than Max, he’d started a habit of just patting Max on the head for any reason. Max had plenty of time to adjust to Sam’s new ticks, but he suspected the first time Sam had totally lifted him for a hug was what did it in. 

Really, the fact he didn’t immediately shoot him the minute his feet left the floor should’ve said the world to Sam.

And yet, it wasn’t just that. He felt it prod his heart whenever Sam would do things, just being himself. His random quirks just drew Max to him, for some reason. The face he would make when he was confused about something, the way he’d lean to the side if he’d been standing still long enough, small things that Sam himself probably didn’t notice he did. Hell, even the charming way he would spend all their money on sweets and pointless junk. To say nothing of the sincere affection. If Max spent too long thinking about the way Sam talked about him, or the way he’d smile at him if they’d been apart a while, he might combust then and there. 

It was good to have time alone to think these things over, but... Not really in a dark, sad excuse for a bar. If he was having the boost of encouragement to think about it, he might as well tell Sam about it, right?

His face went dark in regret at even having the thought.

He’d tried to talk about it before with others a few times. The earliest was probably, strangely enough, not with his own family, but Sam’s. Max asked Sam’s friendly old grandma, somehow confident that she could tell him more than any other adult. He walked to her house without telling anyone, even Sam, and she made him some muffins while he talked. She said it sounded like love, and he wrinkled his nose at that, but ate his muffin anyways.

Another time, while Sam was readying the car outside, he’d asked Bosco, in much shorter terms. The conversation essentially broke down to, “How do you know if you’re in love or it’s something else?” to which Bosco shrugged and made an “I dunno” noise. Then Sam came back inside. Bosco seemed to understand not to bring it up again.

He didn’t ask anyone after that.

It wasn’t really impairing anything to keep it hidden, was it? He got his special brand of work done easy, he wasn’t more depressed than usual, and best of all, nothing would change with Sam. That was what he really wanted, was for things to be as great, as comfortable as they were everyday.

Still, he couldn’t help wonder; could things be  _ greater? _

He thought about how silly this conversation was. They lived in the same house, slept in the same bed on occasion, and he was pretty sure everyone they knew suspected it anyways. To top it all off, they’d gotten  _ married _ numerous times, but c’mon! Those were just wacky shenanigans, right? He thought they were. Did Sam?

Those two words were really starting to piss off Max. Did Sam think of stupid petnames and consider saying them, only to decide not to last minute? Did Sam fantasize about holding close to Max when he had nightmares? Did Sam ever really wanna figure out how such different shaped mouths could kiss? 

Max thought that Sam’s mind seemed too filled with questions and strange exclamations to think about things like that. 

Although…

There were plenty of times when Sam seemed just as overcome with the same awful feeling as him. He’d be scratching shapes into his desk, only to look up and see Sam quickly turn away, busying himself with the calendar or phone. Sam would get him silly knickknacks or win him junk at arcades and fairs with utmost pride. He would do anything, go to hell and back, all for him. It sure seemed like love, but what if it wasn’t the same type of love?

But what if it was?

Max made a noise that sounded like a cross between a groan and a whine, a general (but loud) sound of discontent, and pulled at his ears recklessly. They could pop off his head for all he cared, he just wanted to stop thinking about this. It wasn’t like him, it was weird. Where was his usual uncaring confidence?

And who was he, asking all these pointless questions?  _ Sam? _

As if on cue, Max spotted an old, black and white striped car take a speed bump too fast outside. He could’ve wept in relief. He jumped to his feet and busted open the door, swinging it open with way more force than necessary.

“Sam!”

He watched as Sam mumbled something about filling potholes with something unconventional before turning to Max, with an immediate change of expression. “Max!”

There was that confidence boost again. He leapt over the cardoor on the driver’s side, right into a hug, wedged uncomfortably between the steering wheel and Sam. “What TOOK you so long? You’re lucky I don’t kill you for being this late.”

Sam grinned and averted his eyes. “I got caught up in some traffic. And by traffic, I mean--”

“Tell me later, I just wanna go,” Max waved him off, crawling over to his usual seat. 

Sam frowned. “Didn’t you have fun?”

“I did, but I told you, I was waiting for an eternity!”

“I couldn’t’ve been more than 20 minutes late.” Had it really been that short?

Max was quiet as Sam pulled out, even more so when Sam put his arm around the back of Max’s seat to pull out. 

Max had had enough quiet for today. “Next time, can we just go in together? I don’t even wanna play that bad, I’m not any good at it.”

Max saw Sam’s eyebrows raise under his brim slightly. He was probably a little surprised there was an obscure skill Max hadn’t caught onto in minutes, but he spoke. “If you want. My poker’s a little rusty, but I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.”

“And if they do,” Max grinned widely, reaching into Sam’s jacket for the comically large gun inside. He was feeling better already, despite being so stressed minutes ago about the very person-- er, dog, he was sitting beside. Sam laughed, and Max thought that made it at least somewhat worth the wait. Somewhat. He was still going to get back at him for leaving him in that musty old place.

He would worry about formalities later. Maybe he loved Sam, maybe it was something else, but whatever it was could wait. He had more pressing matters, like how Sam definitely was going to find tomato paste in his pillow tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS ISN'T A SLOWBURN FIC I PROMISE! Anyways they went home and cuddled or something. Just friends that get married sometimes and kiss and raise children together.


	4. ROAD TRIIIIP

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear this isn't intentional, but have you guys noticed I'm getting into a habit of serious chapter, goofy hijinks chapter, serious chapter, etc etc? It's like even I can't tell what tone we're going for. This is definitely not a fic to read all at once.  
But hey, Geek's back, that's fun.

“How much longer until we get there?”

“Sam, you’re the one driving.”

“Oh, right.” He paused. “So how much longer?”

The Geek groaned in annoyance and shoved her face in a magazine, indicating the conversation was over.

Max leaned over the passenger seat to face her, waving a finger in her face. “Isn’t there some Mom Story about reading a moving car giving you a headache?”

“Those kids just don’t know how to do it right,” she said, batting him away. 

“That’s enough of an answer to stop me!” He turned back around and sat in his seat. “Sam, what’s this black strip of plastic?”

“That would be a ‘seatbelt,’ Max.”

Max experimentally hooked a finger under the belt, then let it loose. He gasped as it recoiled back into the wall of the old car. “Interesting.”

A broken DeSoto made for a shitty car trip. The usual physics-and-time-defying capabilities were obviously not a feature of the 90’s mini-van, leaving the ride to feel an eternity longer. The seats didn’t have the dingy, endearing quality, the steering wheel didn’t pop off whenever someone sneezed, and The Geek had to explain the reason the brake pedals ‘were spiky’ was because people normally drove with shoes on. To top it all off, Max had instinctively reached under his chair looking for stray candy about five times.

Max, face still frozen in that ever-present grin, turned up to Sam and cleared his throat. “Ahem.”

“What?”

“This trip sucks.”

Sam directed his attention back to the road. “I thought you were going to say something I didn’t already know, little buddy.”

“I’m hungry, and it’s hot!”

“Is he just a dictionary of complaints?” The Geek’s half-amused smile peeked from under the magazine. 

Sam stuck out an arm over Max. “That’s nothin’, watch this.” His arm came down right between Max’s ears, but rather than cry out in pain, Max fired off another complaint. “I can’t get comfy!”

Bop. “I miss the old car.”

Bop. “I’m tired!”

The Geek reached forward to stop Sam from knocking Max on the head one more time. “I get it. How does this specific kind of scenario happen often enough that you figure out he can do these things?”

“Max is kind of like one of those stuffed dolls that talk when you hit them.”

“So is Sam!” Max interjected. His eyebrows furrowed. “But seriously, if we don’t stop at the next gas station I see, I’m knawing off one limb of choice.”

“That’s a fair trade!” Sam agreed.

“THERE!” Max shouted, and tackled Sam. 

The Geek looked up and realized no one was driving while the two fought and wrestled. She looked back down at her magazine.

“Alright, ALRIGHT!” Sam shouted back. With the hand that wasn’t busy holding off Max, he turned the car into the faded gas station, barely missing a fuel pump. 

Max held his sharp jaw over Sam’s elbow like a threat, only backing away when they were parked. “Thank you. Now get out your wallet, we have to fill this puppy up.”

The Geek unbuckled, hopping out of the clunky vehicle. “There’s no point in stocking up if we’re returning this car in a week.”

“Says you,” the Freelance Police replied in unison. 

“Can we do another stick-up, Sam? I’ve been dying for another stick-up.”

“Shut up, meathead. We don’t have time for that.” He looked at the door, before adding, “Today.” He thought some more. “Unless we could stage an elaborate plot involving The Geek and a pack of cigarettes.”

“Go on?” Max trailed out his words hopefully. 

“I want to hear about it before I agree to it,” The Geek said, sounding a bit hopeful too. The trip had been nothing but dull and boring, and while it bored The Geek more than anything, it was obvious that Sam and Max were going to snap if they didn’t do something stupid.

Sam squatted down by the corner of the sidewalk and motioned for the others to come closer. Oh God, he had a plan.

The Geek waltzed up to the counter coolly. “Excuse me, my good sir, could you ring this up for me, please?”

The sap working the counter couldn’t’ve been over 25, yet his eyes showed a very aged soul. “Sure thing, ma’am.”

Outside, barely peeking in the window, Sam and Max listened in. “Ma’am.” Max whispered simply. 

“He’s already suspicious in my book.”

The Geek dumped a small handful of cartridges filled with a discolored liquid on the counter. “This is all.”

Without further question, the guy started scanning her items. 

“Wait, what are those?” Max asked.

“Hush!”

“She was supposed to get the cig--”

“Now.”

“Now?” Max’s whisper threatened to turn into an enthusiastic squeak. 

“Now!” 

Sam kicked down the (notably unlocked) glass door. “Freeze, punk!”

“Put your hands up! You’re under arrest,” Max gleefully cried. “For…. For…” he made a rolling motion with his hands and looked to Sam for help.

“Selling nicotine to a minor!”

“Yeah, that! Come quietly and this won’t be messy.”

The guy behind the counter hadn’t even put his hands up, he just stood there dumbfounded. “You mean… the juul?”

“What else?” The Geek crossed her arms. 

“But vapes don’t have--”

Max held a hand up calmly to stop him. “If you say ‘vape’ one more time, I might just shoot you for the hell of it.”

“Yeesh, what kind of cops are you guys?” The guy slowly raised his hands as earlier instructed. “Swearing in front of a kid.”

“You were going to sell me nicotine,” The Geek raised an eyebrow at him with an unimpressed tone. 

“Y’know… we might be willing to turn a blind eye, if…” Sam turned away.

“What, what? C’mon man, it was a simple mistake.”

He turned back to face the scrawny cashier. “If you give us some complimentary wares.”

“Deal!” He’d barely finished his sentence before Max raided a nearby stand. Sam waited until he had turned away from the nervous man to grin like a maniac. It was like children being set loose in a candy store. 

After a good combing of the shelves, the trio headed for the door, each carrying a heavy bag of soda, snacks and goodies. Sam propped open the door with his leg as Max and The Geek proudly exited the building. He started to leave himself, but briefly turned one last time. “One more thing…” The guy winced. “Thanks for your cooperation.”

Max was right, they really should’ve done this thing more often. 

As soon as the car doors were all shut, Max burst into vicious laughter. “Did you see the look on his face?! The sheer horror!”

The Geek leaned over the seat, grinning and sipping soda. “Wouldn’t you panic too if you saw a giant angry dog and his tiny friend with a large gun?”

“I wasn’t angry,” Sam objected.

“Whatever, that was priceless. Can you believe that guy? Selling that stuff to kids. EXPOSING that stuff to kids!”

“Nothing’s sacred anymore,” Sam nodded.

“I’m tellin’ ya.”

The Geek opened her mouth to say something, but realized it wasn’t worth it. “Right.”

Max looked down at the growing layer of wrappers and bags around him. “Man, those renters are going to love us,” he laughed.

“Doesn’t everyone,” The Geek sighed. 

Max put his hands in his lap, strangely polite for him, and kicked his legs back and forth. The others sensed he was going to say something, but nothing came. The Geek got comfy in her seat again, reluctantly. Sam glanced aside out the window. 

Max started kicking faster and faster. The silence wasn’t going to last long. He sighed loudly, and asked, “How far away is Kansas?” 

Sam thought for a second before responding. “Couldn’t be too far by now.”

The words seemed to hover for a moment before they hit the back seat. “Kansas?” The Geek repeated in confusion. “Guys, we’re supposed to be going to Toronto.”

“Huh?” Sam looked at her through the rear-view mirror. “I thought there was a ‘can’ sound in there somewhere.”

“Toronto is in  _ Canada! _ ”

“Oh,” was all Sam said. Without a moment of delay or concern for hitting the other cars, he turned back. “Well in that case, Max, we’re gonna be on the road a little longer.”

Max got out of his seat to strangle Sam again.


	5. Halloween Time, and it's Bitchin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take THAT angst pattern!  
Anyways it's October 3, that's practically mid-stage Halloween, so here's the Halloween chapter! I think a holiday where half of the activities involve you annoying other people and causing property damage would be pretty far up on Sam and Max's "favorite days" list.

“I love Halloween,” Max grinned, clasping his hands together in delight. “It’s the only time I scare people, and they thank me for it!”

“Yeah, nobody thanks you,” Sam shook his head. “Although they are noticeably less disapproving of it.”

Max stuck his hand further in the dusty box of decorations. “Ooooh, a glow-in-the-dark bat you can hang on the ceiling! How novel, how cute. Can we throw it out the window tonight at unsuspecting, stuffy parents?”

Sam taped some orange streamers unevenly over the door. “If they were stuffy, would they be out tonight?”

“Yeah, in a grumbly sorta way!” Max set the bat on the desk and put his hands on his hips, puffing out his chest. “‘Come on Karebethany and Josmith, this house is selling candy cigaretttes, and I will NOT condone smoking!’ Bleh, bleh, bleh.” He waggled his finger up at Sam.

“Are those real names?”

“Are they ever?” Max plopped down on the floor, sitting by the box again. “How old are these?”

“I found them in the Sub-Basement of Solitude,” Sam said, stepping back to admire his clunky handiwork. “So, no idea, but they might explode or something. Be careful.”

Max put a plastic spider to his ear. “No beeping. We’re safe.”

“What about the animated candy bowl?”

Max rustled through the box more, about to fall in, if Sam hadn’t caught him by the ankles. He continued, unphased. “This bad boy?” He lifted a purple bowl with a zombie hand in the center. 

“If The Geek made it, it probably grows into a full arm if you try to grab the candy in it.”

Max looked back at him, unblinking. “Can we try it?”

“I’ll get the goods.” Sam dragged Max back to the floor, and opened a desk drawer to reveal a ludicrious variety of candy and snacks. His finger hovered over the various boxes and bags, similar to how one would search through an old phone book, until it stopped over a tube of mini M&M’s. He held it up so Max would see it easily.

Max slid the bowl onto the desk and glanced up at Sam. “Should you be carrying those?”

Sam looked at the candy, then at Max. “Are they illegal?”

“No, no, that wouldn’t stop us. But aren’t you…?” Max made a wagging tail motion, followed by him grabbing his neck, lolling his head to the side and punctuating with a quick, “Blegh!”

“That wouldn’t stop us either.” He poured the candy into a paw, and dropped it into the bowl. “Go nuts.”

Max poked a finger in experimentally. No reaction. Feeling bolder, he stuck in a greedy hand, only for the hand to tower above him, nails sharpening, and emitting a high alarm. His ears bent in opposite directions, as if trying to flee from the noise. Sam covered his ears and winced. As soon as Max retracted his arm, the screeching ceased, and the hand returned to it’s relatively unthreatening state. 

Silently, they made eye contact with each other again. 

“We have to use it!” Max jumped up and down excitedly.

“There’s no question about it,” Sam smiled with an equal amount of glee. 

Sam continued his search through the drawer, occasionally picking up candy that was already expired or he just plain didn’t want, and setting it next to the bowl. 

“WAIT!” 

Max’s loud shriek made Sam jump, dropping three or four bags to the floor. “Quiet, knucklehead, you’ll wake the dead! What’s the problem?”

In seemingly one motion, Max jumped onto the desk and grabbed Sam by his jacket. He somberly stared at him and said a single word with un-Max-like seriousness. “Costumes.”

Sam awkwardly looked aside, then back to Max. “Don’t you have one?”

Max’s eyebrows hit the ceiling. “Of course, but do you?!”

“I hadn’t planned on one. Most people just look at me and assume I’m wearing one to begin with.”

Max let go of Sam to give him a lookover, putting his hand on his chin. “Well, you could stand to have that suit tailored.”

Sam shook his head. “What were you expecting?” Now that he was free, he set to continue decorating, only to have a small rabbity thing cling to his ankle like a koala. 

“C’moooon, where’s your sense of enjoyment? Halloween patriotism?”

“Those words don’t go together. Halloween is a Celtic holiday, not American.”

“I’m saying, you’re not getting anything done until you whip something together.”

“I was afraid you’d say that. How about a compromise?”

“Are you bribing me?”

“Not yet,” Sam shrugged, then pointed at Max. “If you let me finish decorating--” He pointed at himself. “-- Then I’ll let you dig through my closet to put an unneccessarily tacky and ugly costume together for me.”

Max directed his eyes to the floor, carefully thinking the offer over. “Deal.”

Sam leaned back on the bed as Max threw out every item of clothing he owned. “In all honesty,” he started. “It’s almost concerning that out of all the wacky outfits I own, you’re not sold on anything yet.”

“It’s true!” Max turned to give his usual unsettling grin. “And yet, today I’m just feeling picky. It’s not often I get to use you like a dollmaker website.” He carefully inspected a white dress shirt. “Hey, is this blood?”

Sam sat up straighter and leaned towards Max, squinting at the shirt. “Nah, that’s just ketchup, little buddy,” he said reassuringly. He resumed his earlier position and closed his eyes. “At least, I think.”

“Nobody’ll know the difference, so you can be a crazed doctor or something! Do you think Momma Bosco has any labcoats from earlier suspicious careers she neglected to mention?”

“Not any that would fit me.”

“Damn!” Max balled up the shady shirt and tossed it away. “Do you still have the tuxedo?”

“Which one?”

“Any ol’ one.”

“I think I lent mine out to a friend.”

“Maybe that’s for the best, we wouldn’t want it to get dirty tonight.”

Sam silently grimaced, knowing it likely wouldn’t be back spotless. 

“Oh, oh! Look at this!” Max held up a tan short-sleeved button-up. “Do you have the rest of this outfit somewhere?”

Sam scratched his head under his hat. “The gaudy explorer thing? Aw, Max, I don’t even remember why I bought that.”

“It doesn’t matter why you bought it, what matters is how fitting it’ll be!”

Sam got up to retrieve the pants and other various pieces that matched the offending shirt. “Are you sure this is a good idea? It probably still smells like swamp water.”

“Oh, don’t worry! It does!” Max confirmed. “And, if you have a sharp enough nose, you can detect hints of sand and harsh, beating sunlight.”

“Yeah but--” Sam caught a whiff of the air. “Hey, you’re right!” 

“So, are you sold?”

“Not entirely, yet. Hand me the shirt, and look for the hat while I change.”

“Right-o, Sam. Where did you see it last?”

“I dunno, these sort of things always appear and disappear whenever it’s most convenient to me. Coat rack?”

“You don't have a co-- Hey, a coat rack! Here it is, just as dusty as the stack of lawbooks on Flint Paper’s desk.”

“Probably because neither have been touched in a while. Alright, how do I look? And if you say, ‘with your eyes, Sam,’ I won’t be responsible for any sudden injuries on your person.”

“It fits fine. Really highlights your unusually boxy figure, Sam!”

“You always know just what to say, little pal. What about you?”

“Easy, I’m going to be a selfish, immature pharaoh-mummy-thing!”

“A bit too familiar for comfort,” Sam grumbled.

“Wait right here, and practice your ‘I’m totally cursed now’ face in the mirror.”

Sam wasn’t entirely surprised, but still wondered what a curse-face looked like. He turned to the mirror and wrinkled his muzzle, blinking a few times to forcibly stretch his face. He cycled through a few random terrified faces, trying a few more malicious ones. “Should I be aiming for ‘just cursed’ or ‘it already took effect’?”

“Hell if I know,” a high-pitched voice responded. Looking at the bottom of the mirror, he could see the beginnings of a heavy Egyptian gold crown sandwiched between two fluffy, white bunny ears. 

“Where did you get that.” The question had the tone of a statement.

“You know. Do you think we match enough?”

“Match?”

“Yeah!” Max grinned. “I’m the mummy, you’re the stupid excavator who’s indited my wrathful plagues onto the world!”

Sam smiled back. “You really know how to put an original twist on a classic, don’t you, Max?”

“Like nobody else! So, are we handing out candy, or are we going to terrorize the city?”

“I dunno if we can really top what we do on a regular basis, so maybe handing out candy is the way to go. Besides, it’d be a shame to let that bowl go to waste.”

“Too true, Sam, far too true. Let’s go traumatize some children!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers, but the next chapter dives into a fresh territory. A soft and marketable territory. Bring comfy blankets and stuff.


	6. The Thunderstorm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Baby Time!!
> 
> I promise next time I write in Max's POV it won't be hokey, feel-good sap. Honest!

Harsh lightning flashed outside of the cracking, old cabin. The musty stink of a rarely-washed summer camp cabin was thankfully drowned out by the somewhat calming scent of rain water. Even with the drips coming from the ceiling and snores of other children, it was peaceful. Or, it would be if Max wasn’t comforting his crying best friend. 

Following the lightning, thunder rumbled in the distance. In response, the lump under the blanket on Max’s bunk started to shiver again. “It’s getting closer!” it whispered, nervously.

“Way to subvert stereotypes, Sammy.”

A head peeked from under the end of the blanket facing Max. “Shut up, Max! You’re so mean!” Another brief flash, and with a yelp, Sam ducked back under the blanket. 

“You just gotta realize you’re bigger than it!”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Sure it does,” Max said stubbornly, but didn’t elaborate. However, Sam felt the need to go on.

“People die getting hit by lightning! And loud noises can rupture your ears!”

“Is rupture a real word?”

“I’m serious, Max! It’s dangerous!”

Max thought for a second. “So is keeping your head under a blanket!”

“No it’s not!” But regardless, Sam poked his head out again, this time brave enough to sit up beside Max. He clung to the blanket as if it was the only thing between him and death. 

Max started to wonder aloud. “How come you’re scared of clouds, but not drowning?”

Sam lifted the blanket over his head like a hood. “What does that mean?”

“You swim in the lake a lot more than I do.”

“Yeah, but that’s only because you’re scared.”

“Of drowning!” Max wailed, flailing his arms for emphasis. Sam winced at the sudden loud noise, and put his hand over Max’s mouth. 

“Hush! We’ll get in trouble if we wake everyone up again.”

“Whatever, those firecrackers were cool,” Max argued. He shook his head, remembering what they were talking about in the first place. “But it’s way more likely to die in water than from lightning!”

“Not if you know how to swim.”

“Then that’s it! You just have to do something that makes you un-scared.”

Sam’s mouth twisted into an even sharper frown, and he hunched over his knees, staring at the floor. “It’s not that easy, Max.”

“Sure it is. You just have to stop things that are scary before they reach you, like how learning to swim stops you from drowning!”

“But there’s no way to stop lightning. It just happens.”

Max stared at Sam. He had a point. “Can lightning hit people when they’re inside?”

“No, that’d be stupid. Lightning hits whatever’s tallest.”

“If I stand on my tiptoes, my ears should be taller than you,” Max grinned.

“You’re not as tall as the room we’re in, it still wouldn’t hit you.”

“But that means it wouldn’t hit you either.”

Sam looked at Max with teary eyes, then focused on wringing his hands. “Maybe not, but knowing that doesn’t make it unscary.”

Max didn’t really understand that. If the problem was solved, why was Sam still nervous? He tried to remember how adults handled things like this… Oh, yeah. It was talking, which hadn’t worked. He decided to try something else.

“Do you want a hug, Sam?”

Sam turned under his hood, sniffing. He was downright pitiful. “Only if you aren’t tricking me.”

“No,” Max shook his head. “This is a serious one.”

Sam gave a hesitant look and wrinkled his nose. “That sounds worse.”

Max held out his arms stiffly. Sam didn’t react right away, giving Max another wary glance-over. 

Then, the thunder cracked.

Sam jumped into Max’s arms with a yelp, and hid his face away in Max’s fur, as if he was trying to disappear completely. Max’s hands seemed to move by themselves as he held onto Sam, trying to soothe him the same way Sam would whenever Max would scrape his elbow. While half of him was already thinking about how easy it would be to make fun of him for it later, the quieter, less common side of Max was thinking one sentence; “I don’t want Sam to be sad.”

It seemed to echo, rather than repeat itself. It started out strong, but quickly faded under a pile of jokes and almost-mean quips. Then, it would bounce back, a little quieter, but strong as before. 

Max had been through a lot in his handful of years on Earth. He’d seen broken bones, stitches, horror movies, and survived a puppet show subsisting only of rotting marrionettes. But Sam, curled up into a ball, whimpering so fiercely he sounded in pain, holding onto Max for dear life while the thing tormenting him just wouldn’t leave? That was the worst thing he’d seen yet.

The rain softened a little, but Sam remained close to Max. He mumbled something about being sorry, and Max said it was okay even though he wasn’t sure why Sam was apologizing. Max wasn’t sure if the storm was really over or just taking a break, but Sam was acting like it was going to last an eternity. 

“Hey, are you gonna be okay and stuff?”

Sam sniffled and lifted his head. “I guess.”

“Can I get comfy?” Sam started to let go. “No, don’t leave. I just wanna get under the blanket too. Oh, and a pillow.”

Sam nodded, and Max reached over in the dark to find the blanket, half hanging off the bed. 

“I have plans for tomorrow, so we need to sleep,” he stated.

“Like what?”

“I hid some dead bugs in a jar by the dock, and I’m going to slip some in the ice cube tray.”

Sam smiled and laughed a little too loudly. “You’re funny, Max.”

Max smiled back. “You wanna help?”

“You bet!” Sam nestled into the blanket with a peaceful grin on his face. Even as the rain started to pick up speed, he didn’t react. Max wiggled into the blanket and laid his head by Sam. 

“Are you gonna cry anymore?”

“No. Not now I think.”

“Ok, good. Good night.”

Sam turned over and gave one last shaky sigh, letting out the last bit of fear he had in him. “Good night, Max.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you know the work title for this was, and I quote, "BABY TRIP SUMMER CAMP OF MARKETABILITY based on the novel of the same name."   
Damn someone should really write a happier story about Sam and Max at summer caWAIT I GOT A NEW IDEA!


	7. Even More Obligatory Fake Dating Chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive but to what degree? I've been on vacation so I only had a brief playlist and a handful of tv show episodes to keep me occupied in a crowded, 8 hour car trip, so here's a tiny something. It's just the Valentine's Day episode of the cartoon, more explicitly gay-coded and drawn out edition, but hopefully it sates you guys!

Max bunched up his dress in his hands and stomped over to Sam. “I’m not averse to the attire, but I wish you got this thing fitted beforehand.”

“Aw, don’t fuss so much. You’ll only have to wear it for a bit,” Sam said with a pat on Max’s head. “And we’d probably be gone already if you weren’t still complaining. Don’t forget the wig.”

“Wig?! Sam, if I’m wearing a wig, then I have to put on makeup to match it!” whined Max. 

“Have to?” 

“It’s just basic sense! If I’m going through all this trouble, I have to go through ALL this trouble. Where’s the mascara?”

“Somewhere in the bathroom, I think it’s in the top drawer.”

Max almost tripped over the hem again on his way to the bathroom. “Hey, if I have to get all dolled up, can you put something together.”

“I’m already always dolled up, Max.”

Max turned to give him a tight frown, an uncommon expression from him. Sam conceded. “I’ll get something.” That was enough to sate Max, and he hopped into the bathroom. 

“Go for a Flint Paper look!”

Sam shook his head quickly. “Nah.”

“Well, Mr. Picky, what did you have in mind, a 60’s house-husband?”

Sam quietly thought it over.

“Sam.”

“I--”

“Sam,” Max threatened.

“It’d be funny--”

“OH Y--” Max stopped, going quiet to think it over too. He giggled. “Actually, yeah it would. Y’know, I have to admit, this disguise thing is fun.” Another pause. “When it fits me.”

“Deviating from the norm really does give you a thrill.”

“Even if the norm you’re opposing is just being naked all the time.” A rip sound came from the other room, followed by a groan. “Why’s this damn thing so long? I’m getting the scissors.”

“Scissors? You can't cut it, I rented it, Max. Max? MAX!!”

“Well, here we are at… Say, what was this place called again?”

“My own personal hell.”

Sam gave a sympathetic look to Max. “Listen pal, I know sappy stuff isn’t really your forte, but we have to go in here to get our car bac-- When did you put on lipstick?”

“You don’t know everything I keep on my person, Sam. And how come you only had to put on a mustache!”

“Some people don’t get mixed up over the details. All I said was for you to put on the dress for the base disguise, and the wig to hide your eerily large ears. You went for the full ten yards.”

“Ten yards, he says.” Max looked at the far-too-small heels on his feet. “Ten yards.”

“Do you want me to carry you?”

“Not yet,” Max said. “Normally you have to ease into romance.”

“Not like that, idiot.” Sam almost smacked Max upside the head out of habit, but remembered the situation. 

“Oh, what’s wrong, Sam? Not having fun? Don’t wanna be in a sappy makeout fest? DON’T WANT TO BE HERE, SAM?” 

A couple passed, side-eyeing the two curiously. Almost on instinct, Sam reached for Max’s hand and held it. The two smiled, then went on their way. Sam watched them leave, holding back a sigh of relief. What did they do to poor schmucks who had to come in here and DIDN’T have a traditional partner? After all, Sam and Max had never really had a direct definition for what they were beyond partners. It kind of covered all the bases, and they’d essentially adopted a kid together, so he knew they were close, bu--

Sam became aware of beady eyes staring at him, burning a hole in the back of his neck. He turned and looked down at Max, who was focused very carefully on him. “What?”

“Sam. My hand.”

“What about it?”

“Are you apprehending me or something?”

“Oh my God,” Sam said, putting his hand on his forehead. “You’ve held my hand before.”

“Yeah, but you just did it for no reason. Whenever I do it, it’s because we’re tango-ing with death and need to leave the ballroom, or I’m trying to show you something.” 

“I had a reason, those two lovebirds were making weird faces at us!”

“But Sam.”

“What?” he said louder than before.

“You’re still holding it.”

Sam and Max looked at the joined hands in unison. “So I am. And I’ll keep at it unless you tell me to stop, because I think you’re forgetting we have to pass off as lovesick puppies here.”

“Should be easier for you,” Max grumbled, but he didn’t object. “Can we stop standing in front of the ferris wheel at least? I feel like some exchanged saliva is gonna drop on me from here.” 

“Yeah, we should keep moving anyways, even if I’m unfortunately sure the car thieves are gonna be here for a hot minute.” 

They had only been walking a few minutes before they were halted by a vendor. “Say, would you two want a free--”

They both grimaced before the man even stopped speaking, and Max interrupted him in a high-tone. “So sorry, but me and my…” he thought for a second as if he couldn’t remember the word. “Boyfriend are much too busy. We’ve got a date with those novelty little--” his falsetto broke as he started to laugh, realizing what he’d said. “Heh, date. Hehehe.”

Sam took up the opportunity to continue. “Yeah, we’ve just gotta be on our way. C’mon, sweetie.”

Max, still giggling, followed Sam away, before suddenly gesturing for him to bend down to Max’s height. 

“What, did you see it?” Sam whispered. 

“No, but I thought of something that’ll make us more convincing! Come closer.”

Sam started to get nervous. “Now? Right now?”

“The couples here are going nuts, Sam, it’s not a big deal.”

“Oh, okay,” Sam looked to the side quickly before closing his eyes.

Only to feel the tiniest peck on his cheek.

He opened his eyes in confusion, and Max was already started to step away. He only got so far before he realized the arm he was toting was attached to someone who wouldn’t move. “Sam?”

“That’s it?”

Max blinked, not understanding. “What do you mean? OH!” His eyes widened and his grin came back. “Yeah, that’s all. Just wanted to make it clear.”

Sam stood up and walked with Max. “Make what clear?”

“I saw one chick giving you a look, so I thought we needed to be less PG!”

“You kissed my cheek,” Sam deadpanned.

“Well. Yeah. That’s a lot coming from me.” It was true, and they both knew it. Max tended to show affection more violently, which wouldn’t really fly in Love Land. 

“Why are you so worried about that anyways, it’s couples only. She was taken!”

Max made a tsk noise and shook his head. “Not everyone is as good-hearted and loyal as you.”

“Gee, thanks. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were starting to get back to your normal self here, maybe even having fu--”

“Are we almost done? I don’t see the car, and these heels are pinching. Plus, if I see one more couple going at it, I think I might hurl.”

Nevermind, Sam thought with a sigh. “Relax, we just need to focus. Don’t get too wrapped up in your repulsion, little buddy.”

“Easy for you to say, you haven’t seen what I’ve seeEEEEEN SAM THERE’S A TUNNEL OF LOVE!” he shrieked in fear.

“You’ve ridden one of those before!”

“ONLY UNDER DIRE CIRCUMSTANCES. LET’S GO, LET’S GO!”

Sam held onto his hat as Max ferociously dragged him away from one squicky attraction after the other. “Sam,” Max whimpered. “Next time we go on a date, make sure it’s not like this.” He immediately perked up at the sight of something out of Sam’s vision. “Oh hey, the car!”

In one swipe, he ditched the getup and jumped for their beloved DeSoto. “I missed you so much, no one’s ever gonna take you away from me again,” so on and so forth.

Sam also jumped at the sight of the car, delighted and relieved to see it back with minimal lipstick stains, but did a double take, as he looked in the mirror to see the print on his own cheek. “Wait, next time?”

Max lifted his head from the car hood. “Unless you--”

“Oh no,” Sam shook his head. “Next time,” he repeated with a nod. “Next time definitely.”


	8. The Lost James Bond Movie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You think I was done?? Fool. You can never escape Sam and Max hyperfixations once they begin.   
Here's a shot with Flint Paper because I think he's funny, and it's lengthy in order to apologize for leaving this story hanging. My B.

“Hey Mr. Paper, is this fully legal?” Max shifted uncomfortably in his stiff getup. What did The Geek wash this with? White-out?

“Legal enough,” Flint grinned. “It’s about as morally sound as a--”

Max held up his hand and stuck out his nose. “Save the metaphors for when we get there, we’ll need the extra support.” He lowered his head to it’s usual height and pointed at Sam. “Also, wait till he gets his notepad out. I think he gets his material from you, and he’s been running low.”

Sam looked less than amused. “I don’t do it that often.”

Max and Flint opted not to comment on that. Instead, Flint took out some sheets and spread them in a perfect overlapping semi-circle. How DID he do that? And where did he get so many important looking papers?

“So here’s the deal,” he began, leaning over the table. The party is taking place downstairs, but we wanna be on the upper levels to get the…” Max sort of zoned out past that point. It wasn’t often that they were in Flint’s office, much less sitting at his desk! From the gaping hole in the side of their office and some bulletholes outside his door, they’d only caught fleeting glimpses into the glamorous life of a real detective. Real detective work, Max imagined, wasn’t too far from their own violence-wise, though, maybe it was a bit more traditional.

“How come we have to wear these monkey suits and you don’t?” Sam asked. Max wasn’t processing the conversation fully, but he was almost positive Sam had interrupted to ask that. 

If he had, Flint didn’t seem to mind. “I will be, just need to grab my jacket and a tie.”

Sam and Max cocked their heads to the side. 

Flint looked a little unsure. “What?”

“That’s all?”

His former attitude jumped back into the ring. “You bet. You’d be amazed at the difference a jacket makes.”

“Tell me about it!” Max’s cheeks stretched to accommodate an even wider smile than before as he elbowed Sam. Sam pushed him off the chair. 

Unphased, Max continued conversation from the floor. “SO! Where do we fit in?”

“I need someone as charismatic.”

Max spoke up again. “I’ll say it again, but slower for you just in case you’ve got some acute tinnitus from all the guns firing. Where do we fit in?”

“Very funny, bunny. You two are perfect for entertaining the floor while I sneak away! Then, I come back, give you the signal and drive, and you make some excuse to ditch. I’ll meet you back at this building about an hour later.”

“An hour?!” The other two cried.

“It’d be suspicious if we all left at the same time,” he stated factually.

Max looked at Sam, who raised an eyebrow back at him. 

“Flinty, aren’t we showing up at the same time?”

“You catch on quick, Max.”

“No, no,” Sam shook his head. “He’s saying that’s the problem. If we show up at the same time as you, but leave before you, that’ll still look suspicious.”

“Exactly!” Flint agreed. “That’s why you’re walking in after me.”

Immediately any doubts were somehow erased, and Sam and Max nodded in agreement.

“Oh!”

“Ah, makes sense.”

“So, we clear?”

“As a glass door after spring cleaning,” Sam said, adjusting his hat for emphasis.

“What did I tell you?” Max whispered to Flint. 

“This is boring.” Max said flatly.

Sam grabbed him and pulled him back into the car. “Shush! We’re not supposed to be here yet!”

Max froze for a split second, before harshly whispering, “This is boring.”

Sam stared down at him with a look he’d come to hate. Max had to stop his reflexes from starting a fight with him then and there. “What are you making that face for?”

“Nothin’.” Sam smiled and turned away. 

“What!”

“I just think you’re nervous.”

Max spit out his words like an expired cup of milk. “NERV-- Oh you’re a real jokester! Why would I be nervous about this? We’ve done this before! Done WORSE before.”

“Yeah, but this is a fancy shindig.”

“If you say any words like that after we step out of this car, I might drown you in that cutesy fountain over there.”

“It’s not deep enough.”

Max’s sour face stretched back to a smile. “It will be.”

Sam laughed and rubbed Max’s head. “You kill me, little buddy.”

“That’s the idea,” Max grinned. Sam laughed again before remembering the car’s windows weren’t exactly soundproof. The realization must’ve reminded him to keep an eye out, because he made a sharp hissing noise through his teeth and opened the car door. 

Max beamed as he leapt out of the car behind him, almost crashing into Sam’s legs. In a wordless exchange, Sam bent to Max’s height and fixed his tie while Max did the same to him. As soon as both parties were content, they nodded and turned to the steps of the luxurious building.

It was a little alarming, living in such a dump of a street corner and then waltzing into this mansion like it was a normal thing. “Sam,” Max whispered, not-so-subtly pulling his sleeve to get his attention. “Does this place look nicer than The White House to you?”

“Shh!”

Sam paused, scanning the entrance for a sign of Flint before whispering again, his eyes still focused on the building ahead. “Do you mean the actual one, or the symbolic one in our office?”

“The actual one.”

“Last I checked it’s still covered in the remnants of a paintball tournament.”

Max dragged his hand over his nose and past his mouth, resting it on his chin. “Still?”

The pretentiously large doors ahead were threatening to close at any moment. Sam whispered again as they picked up the pace. “How would you know, you haven’t been to the real White House.”

“Oh, yeah! I forgot.”

Entering the main room was a mistake. If Flint wanted a distraction, he sure got it; despite their best attempts to dress the part, Sam and Max stuck out like a sore thumb. Max wondered if they ever DIDN’T stick out, but realized he didn’t really care. 

Ballroom wasn’t the right word, yet any other word didn’t seem to capture how… BIG it was. It was too modern for a fairytale fantasy, too rich. It was angular, and filled to the brim with windows and tacky “art,” probably made by some middle-aged guy who thought it was deep to make a diamond-shaped woman statue. Max snickered as he realized this room looked like a hangout for Austin Powers villains.

“Do you think we’re more suspicious whispering in these crowds of people talking loudly than we would be just… talking?”

Sam hesitated. “Probably,” he said louder than necessary. “So now what?”

Max blinked. “You’re asking me?”

Sam blinked back. “You-- Surely you were listening to his lengthy plan, right?”

Max waited for Sam to remember who he was talking to. 3, 2, 1…

“Damn!” he shouted, drawing attention from nearby snooty guests. “I wasn’t paying attention either,” he admitted in a quieter tone. “Can you remember any of it?”

Max thought. “Mmmaybe, wait. N-- Yea-- Oh, look Sam! Flint Paper!”

Sam pushed Max behind him as if it would make them less obvious to Flint. “If he realizes we weren’t paying attention, he won’t invite us to help with his cases anymore.”

Max’s shoulders slumped. “How unprofessional.”

“Of us,” Sam finished for him. Flint spotted them and made a face that Max imagined was supposed to be a smile. If anyone else approached Max making that face, they probably wouldn’t’ve made it five feet from where they were standing. 

“Hey boys, how are things?”

Sam and Max smiled a little too big, and a little too nervously on Sam’s part. “Great.”

“Oh, spectacular. I’m seconds away from spiking the punch.”

Flint’s smile stayed plastered on his face, but his eyebrows twisted at Max’s proud announcement. “There’s no punch, just a bar.”

“Can I spike that?”

Flint laughed. “I can see why you keep him around.”

Sam’s tight smile slowly settled into a real one. “Yeah, sure. What about you?”

Flint got in closer, and Sam and Max leaned in with anticipation. “I gotta wait a little longer, at least ‘til the sun sets.”

“Isn’t it setting right now?”

“Metaphorically.”

“Ah,” they responded in sync.

“Remember, when I bump into you, I’ll slip the drive in your pocket, so keep the right one free.”

Max raised his hand.

“Yeah?”

“1. Good luck fitting anything in Sam’s pockets, 2. What’s on the flashdrive thing?”

“It’s just for a client of mine. I’m gonna split, but you guys stay sharp.” He winked and left as quickly as he’d came, seemingly disappearing into the crowds. 

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Sam asked.

“I don’t think I am, but I’m a gambling man.”

“Winking doesn’t suit him,” Sam nodded seriously. “So it seems like we just do whatever we want until he gets back and finds us.”

“The ideal case.”

Despite the excitement threatening to edge into their voices, the two stood in their corner for another five minutes. 

Max took the time to really look around more. He’d been paying attention to the location, but not the people. Max had been stuck around snobs plenty before, but this time he couldn’t just gross them out on purpose for laughs. These people were the fanciest of fancy, and not a single person was lacking some sparkle on their outfit. 

“Sam, am I glittery enough?”

“What the hell are you talking about, Max?”

Max sighed. “We’re going to waste the whole night.”

Sam looked away regretfully before responding. “Well, what can we do? Flint doesn’t really seem to care.”

“No matter what we do, someone’s gonna have their peepers on us,” Max said, more to himself than Sam.

“Don’t say the p word,” Sam grumbled as he focused on a specific area. Max stood up straighter to try to see what he was looking at. 

“What, what is it Sam?”

“I need a drink.”

Max didn’t react at first. But as Sam took his hand and dragged him through the crowd, the sheer hilarity of Sam being this exasperated this quickly hit Max hard. He couldn’t stop giggling and chuckling, and it became evident that Flint was right. Even without intending it, Max’s shrill laughs seemed to catch the attention of whoever they passed. 

Max’s laughter slowed, and he turned up to Sam. “The bar?”

“I saw a couple get up and leave, and I know we aren’t going to get a seat otherwise.” 

Max looked at the bar stool, exactly level with his eyes. He glared at Sam. “How kind.” He gripped the back edge of the seat and grunted as he hoisted himself up. He stretched his leg over, only stopping when a quiet rip started to sound from the pants of the suit, right at his knee. He grimaced, and Sam cringed. He slowly lifted the other leg, only to remember that he wasn’t standing firmly on anything. He slipped back, and as if on cue, Sam stuck a hand out to catch him. He shoved him awkwardly to the top of the stool, and once Max was settled he looked down at his legs. More specifically, the unfair distance between his feet and the floor.

“You think this is funny don’t you? A real laugh riot?”

“No, of course not,” Sam shook his head, sitting down at his own seat with no trouble. The bartender came over and slid the two cocktails with no words exchanged. This only confused them more.

“Thank you.” Sam called after them, a little uncertain.

“Do rich people not talk?” Max whispered. 

Sam shrugged and lifted his drink, cautiously sniffing it. His nose wrinkled and he closed his eyes. Whatever was in it, Sam hated it. “It’s strong,” he explained. 

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Max said, swiping his own delicate glass.

“Go easy.” But it was too late. Max had already swallowed as big a gulp as his throat would allow. His face turned red and his ears burned, but his expression remained unchanged. 

“She sure knows how to mix ‘em,” Max coughed. 

“You bet,” came a third voice. 

Max dropped his glass and Sam almost pulled a gun on the poor sap before realizing it was only Flint. “You really should walk louder,” Sam said.

Flint nodded and stuck his hand not-very-subtly into Sam’s jacket pocket. Max thought this operation wasn’t really as covert as he expected. Flint whispered something to Sam Max couldn’t quite hear, and Sam capped the interaction with an “ooooh.”

“What?” Max asked. Flint walked away. “What?!” he repeated, louder. 

“Shut up!” Sam whispered fiercely. “We have to go.”

“Now? But I haven’t finished drinking this concentrated gasoline, Sam!”

“Do you want a to-go cup or something?”

“Not that badly.” Max hopped off the barstool. Standing reminded him of the tear in his suit, but it wasn’t bothering him too much. Sam seemed less thrilled about it, though.

“Do you know how hard it is to find clothes in your size?”

“No,” Max answered flatly.

“Oh, right. I forgot.” 

Max waited for Sam to explain what Flint had said to him, but Sam was missing the cue. “So. Flint Paper.”

“Yeah?” He still wasn’t catching on.

“Talk to him recently?”

“Yeah, yeah…” Oh, Max was going to murder him.

“What did you guys talk about?”

“Stuff.” Sam wasn’t being obtuse, he was sincerely hiding it. That’s not good, Max thought. Sam can never keep secrets. Without warning, Sam took Max and dragged him straight out the door. 

Once they’d settled into the car, Max looked expectantly at Sam again. This time, Sam caved.

“This stupid thing has stolen recipes on it, Max.”

Max didn’t say a word.

“His client is a baker.”

“A baker.”

“Yes.”

Max turned to look out the front windshield, steps away from entirely zoning out and entering a state of destruction. “Sam, I was under the impression we were going to be murdered if we slipped tonight.”

“Mhmm.”

“Sam. Are we in Hoodwinked?”

Sam put the car into gear. “We are. And what does that make us, little buddy?”

“I don’t know if we should think about it while we’re still on the case.”

“That’s true! At least we got to be a part of a real Flint Paper case.”

Max had the brightest a-ha moment he’d had since he realized you could use a paper towel as a rat parachute. “Do you think he purposefully took us on a safer case? To ease us into his intense line of work?”

Sam laughed. “I bet that’s it. I mean, what would we, two cops dealing with time travel, paradoxes, aliens, the undead, and our very own unstable lives, know about intense cases?”

“Right? It’s all kiddie stuff.” Max puffed out his chest. “We’re real detectives now.”

“About time.”

“God, I’m tired. I hate being a real spy-detective-police-guy. Can we go back to the usual thing?”

“Like you have to ask twice,” Sam shook his head. “Just make sure you don’t loose the drive.”

“The drive? You had it.”

“What? I gave it to you, didn’t I?”

“Did you?”

Already twenty miles away, a little USB drive sat on the cold, unforgiving concrete, crushed by the tires of an equally unforgiving, tacky car.


End file.
